


Since You've Been Gone

by yodasyoyo



Series: Tumblr fics [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Comes Back, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Post Season 4, Seriously though... with the pining., briefly deals with malia/stiles and derek/braeden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt : "I just wanted someone to write a fix where Stiles misses Derek terribly after he left with Braeden, and everyone tries to understand why Stiles hasn't been himself. Lydia is the one who guesses it so she sets a plan up and Derek shows up at stiles window....feelings ensue."</p><p>Your wish is my command! And I hope you like it :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tigerwolf890](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigerwolf890/gifts).



Another apocalypse averted.

At least no-one died this time. Well, no-one who mattered.

Is it wrong that he's started thinking that way?

What does it say about him as a person, that he's started to measure success by how safe the people he cares about are.

Still, Scott's okay. His Dad. Lydia. Malia. That's what's important.

Yeah... that's another thing.

Malia. He really needs to do something. He should say _something_.

He likes her okay? He does. It's just... when Der... when...

Well, he just never realized how he felt, until the moment he thought the guy was dying. Like some kind of _fucking_ Harlequin novel... never mind. It's too late for regret now.

He should say something to Malia though.

He wishes he could go back and say something to Derek.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which one fills up quicker.

 

o0o

 

Malia arrives in his room the next night. She snuggles down in his bed while he's finishing his English paper.

Anxiety coils low in his stomach.

He's never been in this position before. He's never been in a relationship before, he never thought he'd be the one ending it.

His Dad likes Malia. He thinks she's good for him, and in some ways she is. He's going to be disappointed.

Disappointed in Stiles.

Again.

The thing is, for the first time he really knows he own heart, and he can't in good conscience keep going with this.

Malia deserves better than to have someone with her out of pity or duty.

He hears the sheets rustle behind him as she sits up in bed.

“What's the matter with you?” she says, “you smell weird. Guilty and sad.”

Fucking werebeings. There's never any privacy is there?

Still. It makes what he's about to do easier.

 

o0o

 

It's not like they used to hang out a lot or anything.

Weeks could go by when Stiles didn't see him at all, but in retrospect he realizes there was comfort in knowing he was around.

Maybe not when they first knew him. That first shitpocalypse (as he thinks of it) he hadn't known what to do with Derek. His responses had veered wildly between pants-shitting-hide-under-the-bedclothes-terror and angry lust filled jerking off in the privacy of his room. All hidden under a thin veneer of sarcasm and bravado.

As bisexual awakenings go it had been... confusing.

Now though, when he lays in bed at night, all he can think about are those last few moments, as Derek bled out on the floor, Braeden hovering at his shoulder.

The charged look he and Derek had shared.

How fucking conflicted he'd felt having to leave Derek to go after Scott.

How did that happen?

How did he get to the point where he would hesitate, even for a second, to choose Scott over Derek?

It doesn't matter now.

Derek's gone.

He's probably touring South America with Braeden on that damn motorbike. His arms wrapped around her tightly, wearing that leather jacket. Looking like some kind of damn biker wet dream.

His hand snakes under the covers and he cups himself guiltily, finding friction.

Stiles is pleased for him.

He deserves to be with someone who's not a murdering psychopath.

Someone who'll look after him.

Besides...

It's not like Derek liked guys anyway.

Stiles never stood a chance.

He bites his hand as he comes to keep quiet. Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

 

o0o

 

“You okay dude?” Scott slings an arm round his shoulder at school the next day, concern written on his face.

“Uh... yeah,” Stiles says forcing a grin. “Of course.”

Scott's eyes narrow. He knows he's lying, but he's not going to call him on it. It's a courtesy thing.

“Okay.” he says finally. “I'm here if you wanna talk. Y'know that right?”

Stiles nods, unhooking his backpack and pretending to look through it so he can avoid looking Scott in the eye.

He's going to get over this.

He's going to be fine.

After all, he got over Lydia. That didn't take long, did it?

 

o0o

 

His grades start to slip. Not wildly. It's not like he's got to worry about it.

Enough though.

He just can't concentrate. He can't seem to conjure up the interest in school stuff anymore.

He feels listless and empty.

He sits next to Lydia in Maths and can feel her scrutinizing him as he stares at the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

He should be writing something. He should be working out these equations but he just can't bring himself to care.

He doodles absently on the paper, wondering where Derek is now, what he's doing. He's toyed with the idea of texting him, but what would that accomplish? It's not like Derek really texted people anyway.

Lydia leans across. “I think you're going to need to write a little more than that if you want to pass this class.” she hisses, glancing significantly at the paper.

He looks down and feels heat creep into his cheeks.

Derek.

Written multiple times in blue ink across the paper. He blushes, glancing at Lydia, but she's turned back to her work.

He rips out that page balls it up and tries to concentrate.

 

o0o

 

He stops eating as much.

Not everything. His appetite just fades.

His jeans are a bit looser now.

He feels tired more often.

Scott invites him over to hang out.

He's not in the mood.

He's _never_ in the damn mood.

His Dad watches him with worried eyes. He asks probing questions about his break-up with Malia.

Stiles starts spending his free time in his bedroom.

He can't sleep, he just can't settle. He ends up surfing the internet for hours. He researches South America extensively. Tries to imagine what journey Derek's taking. What he's seeing.

Sometimes he thinks about tracking Derek's phone, ditching everything and going to find him.

He doesn't though. He'd just be the annoying third wheel.

Anyway, Derek doesn't want an annoying heartsick teenager following him around. Derek has _Braeden_. Derek is _happy_.

Derek has escaped Beacon Hills and is forging a life for himself.

A life that doesn't include Stiles.

Well good for _fucking_ Derek.

 

o0o

 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Lydia has pulled him into a classroom. She looks pissed.

“Talk to who?” he says feigning ignorance.

She scowls. “Right,” she says grimly. “Right, if that's how you want to play it.”

She turns on her heel and marches away.

Stiles exhales shakily.

He might just ditch school today.

He'd be better off at home anyway.

 

o0o

 

It's a week since Lydia stormed out of the classroom.

He's not any better.

His Dad left for work reluctantly this evening.

He watches Stiles constantly now. Worry written large over his face.

His Dad ate a salad today, sat there and ate a fucking salad without being prompted, while Stiles took two bites of a pizza roll and declared himself done.

He watches his Dad leave and then stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom and opens the door.

He steps back, blinks, rubs his eyes frantically and looks again. Anger builds irrationally in his chest.

“What are you doing here?” he spits.

Derek fucking Hale hovers uncertainly by the window. He shrugs, “Thought I'd check in. Make sure your okay.”

Stiles snorts angrily, “Really? Fine. Well I'm good. So you can go now.” He stomps angrily over to his laptop and switches it on.

He pretends to focus on his computer. Types in his password extra carefully, brings up the English paper he was supposed to have handed in two days ago and glares at it furiously. He isn't focusing on Derek. He is _not._

Derek clears his throat, he seems nervous or maybe confused. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asks after a long pause.

Stiles clenches his jaw, “I'm fine.” He doesn't turn around.

He can feel that Derek's moving closer, but it still comes as a surprise when Derek places a hand tentatively on his shoulder. He stills, closes his eyes and breathes carefully.

“You don't seem fine Stiles,” Derek begins, “Lydia said...”

He stands up angrily and Derek stumbles backwards. “Oh! Lydia said did she. Lydia said and you just came running back with your tail between your legs.”

Derek's eyebrows bunch together and he scowls. “What's you're problem? Yeah. I came back because Lydia asked me to. What's wrong with that?”

Stiles can feel himself shaking with white hot fury. “Nothing. Nothings wrong with that. Lydia wanted you and you came. So why don't you go talk to _Lydia_ and then fuck off back to South America or wherever it is you call home now. Because you're not welcome _here_.”

Derek pales, his hands hang loosely at his sides, his mouth opens and then closes again. “Fine," he bites out, “fine. I don't know why I bothered.”

He strides to the window and throws it open. Stiles' heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest. His stomach sinks.

Derek wheels around angrily, “No. No. I'm going to say this. Do you know how fucking _unreasonable_ you're being?" He steps forward, "Do you?”

“Me?” Stiles says furiously taking an involuntary step closer. “You're the one who walked away. You're the one who left!”

Derek clenches his fists. “You didn't need me!" He steps right up into Stiles personal space. “Scott's the alpha now, the pack is stable, Peter and Kate are not a problem. You had Malia!” His voice breaks a little on her name. “Why would it matter to any of you whether or not I was there Stiles? Why?”

“Why? Why? Because,” Stiles bursts out angrily, “because nothing's right when you're not here! I don't feel safe. I don't feel happy. I'm just fucking miserable all the goddamn time. That's why. It matters because you make me happy you unbelievable asshole.”

Stiles hands fly to his mouth trying to catch the words. To push them back in before they can do any more damage. Derek's eyes widen.

Stiles sags, all the fight going out of him in a single breath. “Just... just go,” he says tiredly. “You're right. I'm being unreasonable. Forget I said anything. You're not responsible for my happiness.” He stares at the patch of carpet to the left of Derek's feet, waiting to hear the tell tale sounds of him leaving.

Derek clears his throat awkwardly. “What if I want to be?” he says in a quiet voice.

Stiles looks up in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

“What if I want to be... responsible for your happiness.” Stiles searches his face warily, there's a tiny stain of colour high on Derek's cheek.

Stiles swallows, “What about Braeden?” 

Derek shrugs,  “We broke up.”

A weight lifts a little from Stiles chest, “Me too.” Derek looks confused, and Stiles adds, “Malia and I broke up too.”

Derek smiles softly. “I may or may not have heard that from Lydia.” he admits, reaching one hand out to cup Stiles face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along Stiles' cheek.

Stiles leans into it shamelessly. “Oh yeah?” he breathes. “What else did Lydia say?”

Derek looks at him a little smug, “That you were pining away for me and everyone was worried.”

Stiles' eyes narrow dangerously. “Really-” he begins, “is that what she thinks because-”

Derek leans in and kisses him, stealing every last thought from his mind, except the warmth of his breath, the soft movement of his lips and the scratch of his stubble.

When he breaks the kiss, Stiles whines in complaint, but Derek leans in closer, and whispers in his ear, “I pined for you too.”

 

o0o

 

Lookit other [Sterek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/works) fic by me!  
Also [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yodas-yo-yo)!  
Kudos and comments gratefully received :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay - so I thought I was done with this fic. But d'ya know what makes all fics just a little bit better? Do you? Derek's POV.

She's beautiful and intelligent and pragmatic.

She definitely isn't psychotic.

Well... he'd thought that about Kate and Jennifer too and that hadn't turned out so well for him, but he is pretty sure.

On the surface he knows less about Braeden than the others. Braeden deals in secrets and lies every day, it's part of her job description. On paper he shouldn't trust her.

She's up front about her deceit though, that's the thing. She can't tell him everything and she's honest about that.

It takes the pressure off.

Jennifer had seemed sweet and innocent. Kate had been sultry and sexy. They'd both pretended to be people they weren't to manipulate him.

Braeden might have plans and schemes and clients he knows nothing about, but she is open about _what_ she is. Derek knows where he stands.That's worth something.

There's something cathartic about travelling with her. She isn't pack. She isn't the love of his life. She is good for him though. As they travel, all the horror and anxiety of the previous few years fades slowly, absorbed into the thrum of the engine and the salt tang of the sea air as they drive along dusty coastal roads.

He feels free.

 

o0o

 

He thinks about Beacon Hills sometimes, when he's lying next to her on dark humid nights.

He thinks about Scott, and how far he's come, from that scared naïve kid who'd just been bitten and didn't want to accept his future.

He thinks about Peter, so bitter and twisted, consumed by ambition and a lust for power.

He thinks about his family, their ashes sunk deep into the preserve. Rooting him. Calling him.

He'll never really escape Beacon Hills, not really, but dammit, he can try.

Sometimes he lets himself think about Stiles...

He doesn't really think about Lydia though, so it's a surprise when his phone vibrates and he realizes it's a text from her. He didn't realize she still had his number.

**When are you coming back?**

He doesn't respond.

 

o0o

 

She doesn't text him again for almost a week, he doesn't think about it too much. If it was an emergency she would have said something.

If it was an emergency Scott would have been texting him, or Stiles; so it's a surprise when his phone vibrates again.

Braeden looks up at him questioningly. “Cora?” she asks.

He shakes his head, “Lydia.”

She looks at him expectantly, “Well, what does she want?”

He sighs and thumbs the screen, accessing the message.

**Come home. Now.**

“She wants me to come back to Beacon Hills," he replies, switching his phone off and putting in his pocket.

Braeden looks confused. “ _Lydia?_ ” she asks disbelieving. “Why?”

 

o0o

 

That night he can't settle. He's resolved not to call Lydia, not to have any contact with Beacon Hills. He needs time. Time to heal, time away. He has no intention of running back there just because _Lydia Martin_ demands it.

He paces the floor in the motel until Braeden tells him to go outside for a run. She's trying to work, and he's not helping.

He jogs through the town, keeping up a punishing pace.

He's not going to turn on his phone.

He's not going to call Lydia.

If it was a proper emergency, she should have said what was wrong. She should have said who was in danger. She should have given him a _reason_ rather than just _demanding._

The truth is he can't think of a reason he would return to Beacon Hills right now. There's nothing for him there at the moment. The pack doesn't need him. There's none of his family there. Scott's building his own pack. Stiles is...

Why would Lydia tell him to come back. Why?

“Fuck,” he mumbles, stumbling to a stop. He ducks into an alleyway, pulls out his phone and switches it on. There are four new messages from Lydia.

**I know you're there.**

**Answer me.**

**Please.**

**It's about Stiles.**

The timestamp on that last message shows it only came through five minutes ago. He calls her immediately with shaking fingers.

“What's wrong?” he asks as soon as she picks up.

“Finally!” she responds. “Perhaps I should have opened with that last text. Obviously _me_ wanting you back isn't enough of a motivator.”

He paces in agitation. “What's wrong with Stiles?” he repeats through clenched teeth.

He can practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” she's annoyed, “don't ask how _I_ am.”

“Lydia-” he growls.

“Okay!” She sounds like she's smirking. She's lucky they're hundred's of miles apart because right now he's ready to rip her throat out. With his teeth. He settles for gouging the brickwork in the alley with his claws.

“Stiles misses you.” 

Derek pauses. “What?” he snaps.

“Stiles misses you,"  she repeats expectantly. "You need to come home.”

His claws retract, and his brow furrows in confusion. “You want me to come back to Beacon Hills because _Stiles_ misses me. _Stiles Stilinski._ ”

“Yes,” she hums, and he can hear the rustle of her turning a page on the other end of the line.

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” he bites out, angry and confused.

“Nope” she pops the 'P' and turns another page, but her heart is steady. She's telling the truth.

He sinks down to the floor of the alleyway, his free hand cradling his head. “If Stiles misses me so much why doesn't _he_ call me. Why am I hearing this from you?”

There's the sound of a book slamming shut, “I don't know Derek, I don't know what's going on between you two. Who am I? Dr Ruth? Just come back and sort it out.”

“Malia...” Derek begins.

“They broke up.” she says airily, “they broke up and now he's pining Derek. Pining away. He's losing weight, he's not sleeping, his schoolwork is suffering.”

“Maybe he's upset about Malia breaking up with him,” Derek argues. “There's no reason to assume that he's pining for me.”

“He broke up with _her,"_  Lydia states. "He told her it wasn't fair to date her when he was in love with someone else.”

“You then,” Derek says. “He's in love with _you_.” Everyone knows that. Don't they?

She snorts derisively, “Pay attention Derek. Stiles hasn't been in love with me for a _while_ now. If he ever was.”

“That doesn't mean he's in love with me,” Derek says, clinging on doggedly to the world he thought he knew.

“I don't have time for this!" Lydia says. “I have mid terms coming up. Get back here and sort it out. If it turns out I'm wrong...” She laughs, “Oh God. I can't even say that with a straight face. I'm not wrong, so come back and sort it out.”

 

o0o

 

He's not going to do it.

He's not going to go back to Beacon Hills just because Lydia says _Stiles_ is in love with him.

That's what he tells himself as he runs back to the motel.

That's what he tells himself as he starts rooting through his drawers and packing.

Braeden looks up at him from where she's working.

“Everything okay?” she asks curiously.

Fuck.

 

o0o

 

They end it amicably enough. They both knew it wasn't a long term thing, so there isn't any drama.

She drives him to the airport and kisses him on the cheek before he boards his plane.

It's easily the best break-up he's ever had, certainly the one with the lowest body count and he loves her for it.

Sitting on the plane though, he's restless.

He can't sleep, doesn't eat.

There's an itch under his skin that's just getting worse.

He hires a car and drives back to Beacon Hills, straight to the Stilinski house, waits there in the car, a little ways down the road, waiting to catch a glimpse of Stiles.

He doesn't have to wait long.

He can hear the Jeep approaching before he sees it. He'd know the cough and rattle of that engine anywhere. He watches closely as Stiles pulls up in his drive, waiting. Waiting to prove Lydia wrong, hoping she'll be proved right.

He seems smaller than Derek remembered. He moves more slowly too. He looks different some how. It's there in the way he holds himself, curled over, almost defensively. He looks pale, tired and maybe- thinner?

It's not much, not really, but it's enough. Hope blooms cautiously in Derek's chest.

He gets out the car, toying with the idea of knocking on the front door.

Fuck it, he decides, he'll climb up the back and go through Stiles bedroom window.

Once more, for old times sake.

 

o0o

 

 **Well I feel better after getting that off my chest. Hopefully you enjoyed it too. All kudos and comments gratefully received :-)**  
  
**Check out my other**[fic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo/works) or come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yodas-yo-yo)


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